


thrice in the chest

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Morning Kisses, Season 3, Unexpected Visitors, post 3x23, season 3 hiatus, sort of a fix-it fic?, waking up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Post-3x23 - slightly canon-divergent.The morning after the defeat of Ra's Al Ghul and saving the city from the Alpha Omega virus, Oliver and Felicity are visited at her apartment by Captain Lance, who wishes to call a truce and partially make amends.





	thrice in the chest

**Author's Note:**

> (yeah you can definitely tell i wrote this during the season 3 hiatus before season 4, and just never posted it lol)
> 
> (i miss captain lance. im kind of glad they killed him off {spoilers} because they were destroying his character but he was so great before season 6)

The doorbell rang.

Then it rang again.

And continued to, insistently, for the next minute.

Felicity groaned and turned over in bed, dragging a pillow over her head tiredly. She groggily tugged the warm body pressed against her closer, snuggling into the heat and sighing in contentment. Silence for a moment. And then doorbell cut through her drifting back off to sleep. The blonde whined in annoyance.

“Felicity, get the door,” Oliver mumbled, shifting and wrapping his arms around her possessively. Snuffling into her hair, he reached blindly with one hand to pull the duvet further over the both of them. His shifting jostled his many injuries due to the League and he emitted a soft, pained noise.

Felicity huffed, squeezing his hand reassuringly as she muttered, “Nuh uh. Staying here. It’s cold out there. You get it.”

“It’s your apartment. And I’m tired.” He really did look it. Felicity supposed continuous torture in the form of sleep deprivation from the League of Assassins would cause you to look exhausted. The archer winced as he shifted again. “I crashed a plane and fought a sword duel yesterday. _You_ get it.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Then nobody’ll get it.”

The doorbell rang again and this time was accompanied by pounding knocking. The pair of them groaned and finally heaved themselves up, pulling away from each other and untangling their legs to clamber up. Felicity picked up her full-length fandom pajamas from where they were chucked carelessly on the floor last night and yanked them on as Oliver hopped around trying to get a pair of slacks on, still half-asleep.

“Aw, damn,” he muttered to himself as blood blossomed across the bandages wrapped around his back.

Amused at his struggling and worried by the bleeding, Felicity finally gave in. “I’ll get it,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Oliver’s shoulder blade as her partner finally succeeded in dressing his lower half, giving a small, exhausted victory cheer.

Rubbing her eyes and trying to send hand-signals back to where Oliver emerged, shirtless, from her bedroom behind her for him to start making coffee, Felicity headed towards the door. She opened it, not even looking at who it was and instead trying to cover a massive yawn, fumbling with her glasses.

“Miss Smoak.”

Her eyes widened as the visitor came into focus when she pushed her glasses up on her nose. Felicity released a squeak that sounded embarrassed, shocked, alarmed and disgruntled all at once. Quentin Lance stood awkwardly in her door frame, dressed in casual clothes, file and box in hand as he eyed her carefully.

“Captain Lance. What can I do for you at -” She ducked her head back to glance at her clock. “Oh. Wow. Eleven am. I should be at work. I should definitely be at work. Oh well. Too late now. I’ll call in sick. Ray won’t mind. Anyway.” She glanced back up at the police captain, leaning on her door frame. “What can I do for you?”

“I wondered if I could possibly talk to your guy - Oliver,” he quickly added, as if he wasn’t sure if suggesting that the archer belonged to Felicity was appropriate or not.

Felicity narrowed her eyes and tried to cross her arms. It took several attempts, but she managed it. “Maybe he’s not here.”

“Yeah, uh, I checked in with his sister, bodyguard, and Laurel and they said he was here.” Lance looked awkward. “I guess congratulations are in order?”

“To whom? Me, who finally convinced Oliver to get his head out of his ass or Oliver, who got married to Nyssa, whose marriage we are most definitely, as soon as possible annulling, by the way.”

It was hard to tell whether or not Lance was flustered or frustrated. “Can I come in?” Right, judging by his tone, he was both.

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to arrest him?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Are you going to shout at him or be rude?”

“No. I want to call a truce.”

“... Okay, if you’re here on friendly terms, then you’re welcome to come in.” She held the door open and the captain stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, Felicity skipped over to the kitchen. “Take your shoes off please and leave them in the corner. Coffee?”

“Please.”

Felicity tackle-hugged Oliver from behind as the archer carefully measured spoonfuls of sugar into mugs. It didn’t take him from surprise at all as he’d already been aware of her approach, which Felicity knew as she’d seen him tilt his head towards her. She leaned around him to watch as he waited for the coffee to brew, being careful to avoid his now exposed wounds. He’d taken the bandages off to clean the blood away and check on the stitches, but had obviously decided to let his cuts dry out. She could tell the archer was grinning by the way he turned his head minutely towards her with a hum. Wriggling in front of him, she reached to add some extra sugar into her own mug - she would definitely need the rush and energy it would give her today - but Oliver caught her hand, pulling it up to his mouth to press kisses to her palms.

Lance cleared his throat and Oliver froze. Immediately tensing, he gripped Felicity’s hand and tucked his chin to his chest, inhaling a shuddering breath. Concerned, the blonde squeezed his hand and gazed up into his blue eyes searchingly. She knew that Oliver's time with the League, on top of what had happened to him on Lian Yu, in Hong Kong and Russia, had scarred him, leaving him with flashbacks and breakdowns to live with. Anything that had the potential to put him on edge had the potential to end in disaster.

“Captain Lance,” Oliver greeted the man tightly, wheeling around to flash a small, cold smile. “Good morning.”

There was a beat and then Lance’s shoulders dropped. “Jesus, Queen. The hell’d they do to you?”

Lance had discovered the full extent of the torture the League had inflicted on Oliver to indoctrinate and brainwash him into truly becoming Al Sahim. When Felicity had seen the half-healed sword wounds and thick, ropey scars and burns littering his chest, sides and back, she had almost broken down in tears. She’d almost wished she could have dealt the killing blow to Ra’s herself when her hand had accidentally found the risen, angry red brand of an arrowhead brutally indented into his shoulder.

“A lot,” was all Oliver replied. His voice was low and haunted, and he seemed to lean into Felicity’s side for support. “Giving up my identity wasn’t easy, and I certainly didn’t do it willingly.”

Lance nodded, an anguished look crossing his face as he undoubtedly remembered Sara’s own words about the League. “Right. Well, uh, I just wanted to, you know, check on you. After yesterday. You know, what happened at the dam.”

“Yes, I got shot three times in the chest,” Oliver said, keeping his face carefully blank. “And fell off the dam.”

“Yeah. That. I tried to stop them,” Lance fiddled with his hands, looking down at them. “Really. We may not have been seeing eye-to-eye exactly lately but that doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

“Thank you.” Seeing the look the captain shot him, Oliver explained, “Felicity told me that you warned her about the men going to shoot me. She was able to get there in enough time to stop me from falling into the water. If you hadn’t called her, I would be dead. So thank you.”

Lance finally gave a small smile. “You’re welcome. And I know I haven’t been - I know that lately the tension between our teams -” The captain cut himself off with a sigh, as if frustrated with himself that his voice was betraying him. Finally, he just held out the box. It was only cardboard, but was quite large. “Here. It was all gonna be thrown away and burnt anyway because they’re clearing out the evidence lockers for closed cases. Thought you might want it back.”

Oliver cautiously approached, eyeing the captain warily. He took the box as if it was about to explode in his face. When it didn’t, however, he set it down on the coffee table and flicked open a penknife from his back pocket to cut the duct tape holding it together, opening the lid of the cardboard box. Felicity felt tears spring to her eyes when Oliver pulled out his green hood that had so much sentimental value it couldn’t be compared to anything else. It looked as if it had been carefully separated from the actual leather Arrow jacket.

Touched and lost in memory, Oliver gripped the worn dark green fabric to his chest and bowed his head, the hood no doubt reminding him of Shado. “Thank you, Captain,” he said, and god, even his voice sounded a little hoarse. “You have no idea how much this hood means to me.”

Lance didn’t respond, just waved back down at the box. Oliver passed the hood slowly over to Felicity, who handled it with just as much care as its owner, as her boyfriend leaned down to pick the next item out of the box.

“Oh,” Oliver mumbled, his expression morphing into one that was clearly trying to hold back tears as he lifted out his bow.

Not just any one of his bows - his original retractable bow that Felicity had gifted him with when he had decided to become the Arrow after the Undertaking. The original bow that Felicity had got him, made to all his needs and measurements, despite the fact she hadn’t known for sure whether or not he would ever wield it. The bow represented Felicity’s belief in Oliver; Captain Lance couldn’t have picked a better way to try and earn Oliver’s trust back than returning it.

“Yeah, they, uh, there were about seven that we collected from your lair,” Lance said. “Guess it makes sense that you guys had spares. They only really needed one for evidence so they were gonna donate the rest to some archery company after they were cleared by the government. I, er… I recognized this one as the one you got after you came back to work after the Undertaking.”

Oliver drew the bow back to anchor point fluidly, biting his lip when he realized that this was the best bow he had ever used as it fit him perfectly. He eased the tension, placed it on the table and held out his hand to the captain. “Thank you, Mr Lance.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied awkwardly, shaking it quickly.

“I know I probably won’t be able to ever re-earn your trust as the Arrow, or Oliver Queen. I know it’ll never be enough when I say I am really, truly sorry for what happened to Sara and for not telling you.”

“It wasn’t your fault, kid,” Lance sighed. “I know I made out that it was, but really, it wasn’t, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. I was angry and upset and needed to lash out, and you just happened to be dangled in front of me by that Ra’s man at the time. It’s really me who should be apologizing.” He grimaced. “And it was wrong of me to blame Harper’s death on you. If anything, it was my fault. I forced you into that position.”

Felicity chipped in, “I wouldn’t worry about Roy.” Seeing the confused look Lance shot her, Felicity wrung her hands as she explained, admitting, “Roy’s actually alive. We staged his ‘death’ to get him out of prison. He’s got a new identity and a new life, and he’s safe now. He calls and texts every so often.”

“Oh thank god,” Lance shook his head in relief. "And that thing I heard about Thea getting stabbed? That was staged too?"

"Now that," Felicity pointed at him. "Was not staged. That was the League of Assassins pushing Oliver to the brink of desperation to force him to join the League."

"It worked," Lance said miserably, shoulders falling, "Didn't it? That's why you haven't been in Starling for the last two months."

Neither Oliver nor Felicity answered him. Instead, the archer took his and Felicity’s coffee mugs and retreated back into the kitchen to refill them both. The blonde observed his stiff and uncomfortable body language carefully; Oliver didn’t like being reminded of all the hardships he had suffered recently. He was reluctant to talk to anybody about his experiences - he hadn’t even told Felicity most of it. Out of everybody he could open up to, Lance was the last person Oliver would choose to.

“It’s been a very rough year,” Felicity murmured. “For all of us. Oliver especially.” Straightening her back, she held her hand out for Lance to shake. “Thank you for coming around. And thank you for Oliver’s hood and his bow.”

Lance quickly picked up on the clear dismissal, taking Felicity’s hand. “Take care of yourself, Miss Smoak… and Oliver.” He glanced over at the suitcases that were lying on the floor in the corner, where they’d started packing up clothes and personal belongings last night. “You two going on a vacation somewhere?”

“Kind of indefinitely, actually,” Felicity admitted. “We’re going to travel around… go on a world adventure while navigating our own new relationship. Hopefully it will give us the break we both need.”

“And deserve,” Lance added. “Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves.”

Oliver re-appeared from the kitchen. “Thank you, Mr Lance,” he said quietly.

“Good luck, kid.”

Felicity escorted Lance to the doorway and waited until she could see his police cruiser driving away before closing the door. The captain didn’t have to come around to apologize to Oliver, but he’d taken it upon himself to. Maybe in the future, if she and Oliver ever came back to Starling City and took up their vigilante mantels once again, Lance might lend them a hand or two. She could see him becoming a reliable member of Team Arrow if he was given the chance.

Clicking the lock in place, Felicity was about to turn around and ask Oliver if he was up for brunch when she was swept off her feet, the archer scooping her up into his arms bridal style. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck to steady herself, pouting at his rumble of a laugh.

“Oliver, your injuries!” she protested. She didn’t want him aggravating them anymore. “You should put me down.”

“I’m healed enough to carry you back to bed,” he replied, spinning them around and beginning to take her on the journey back towards the bedroom. “Thea’s dropping the Porsche off at three and if we leave in the evening, we don’t have to resume packing straight away… I want to take my girlfriend back to bed and enjoy morning-after sex with her that we missed out on when we were in Nanda Parbat.”

Felicity stroked her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling. Oliver was so sweet. His voice was completely sincere and his gaze was hopeful. “Better hurry up then,” she said. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until noon. Can’t call it morning-after sex if it’s the afternoon, can we?”

“Is that a challenge?” There was a spark of heat in the archer’s eyes, a hint of playfulness there that caused Felicity’s grin to widen.

“And what if it is?” she tilted her head teasingly.

Felicity yelped at the possessive growl Oliver emitted when his arms tightened around her. He kicked the bedroom door open, dropping her onto the comforter. The blonde’s breath hitched when Oliver clambered onto the bed, pinning her wrists down and looming over her as he licked his lips, blue eyes afire with arousal. “Fifteen minutes? That’s your challenge?”

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “Think you can manage?” she whispered.

“Oh, I can more than manage fifteen minutes - I can make it _five_.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed x
> 
> twitter: @lexiblackbriar  
> tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13


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